


Breakfast

by Glitch1 (The_Glitches)



Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: M/M, Oral, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, hypersensitive Prowl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-14 23:16:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14146761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Glitches/pseuds/Glitch1
Summary: Prowl awakes to find his lover hovering over him, morning debauchery ensues.





	Breakfast

**Author's Note:**

> I love TFA Prowl, and I love doing naughty things to him. 
> 
> If anyone was hoping for some more PrimeStar chapters, sorry to disappoint but I did write a bit more. So soooooon.

Prowl’s systems surged online with the speed of one trained, his battle codes already onlining as he jerked upright and reached for his shuriken – 

And stopped.

“Hey, whoa there,” Jazz smiled in greeting, servos held in a placating, non-threatening position. From where he was knelt at the end of Prowl’s recharge berth, just shy of the smaller bot’s heels, his white armor dazzled Prowl’s sleep-sensitive optics. The late morning sunlight poured in from the broken roof, dappling them both through the tree’s lush growth. Patches of sun-kissed armor seemed to glow.

“Jazz,” Prowl acknowledged, vocalizer thick with sleep and confusion. “What time of day is it?” 

He started to sit up, only to feel Jazz’s warm servo pressed to his chassis and push him back flat. Prowl frowned, questioningly as his partner leaned over him on servo and knees, a charming and somewhat predatory smile gracing his handsome face.

“For you, it’s Jazz time,” he answered smoothly.

A wry, amused smile tugged at the corner of Prowl’s lip plate until it was stolen by the press of Jazz’s own. Warmth seemed to transfer through their contact and increase little by little with each individual kiss. When Jazz paused the succession of intimate pecks, Prowl was sufficiently warmed and his engine was purring happily.

“I didn’t expect to see you for another few days,” he said by way of salutation, his tone soft and affectionate. Their lips brushed as he spoke.

“The Steelhaven was called for a detour,” Jazz explained, sneakily sending his free servo wandering appreciatively along the side of Prowl’s windshield. “I requested permission to continue on to Earth alone.” He kissed the side of his lover’s jaw. “So I jumped on a shuttle and here I am.” He planted the next one higher. “Wasn’t gonna wait to see my Prowler.” He stole another kiss from Prowl’s lips. “Heard you were takin’ care of more human trouble late last night.”

“Mm,” Prowl responded, Jazz’s ministrations lulling him into a pleasant idle mode. “I dread to think how they coped before we awoke on this planet.” He indulged in his partner’s caresses, allowing a small sigh of contentment to pass from his intake as Jazz’s palm left a trail of addicting sensations along his plating. “Returned home late,” he managed as his processor stumbled into a deeper idle.

“Home,” Jazz repeated, smiling. He pressed his face into Prowl neck and licked.

Prowl twitched, processor ramped out of idle mode. “We should go get breakfast,” he suggested, slightly alarmed by how quickly his frame reacted.

“Breakfast,” Jazz repeated again into the smaller bot’s neck. “The humans call their first meal of the day breakfast, ain’t that right?” His servo wandered lower.

“Yes,” Prowl whispered automatically.

Jazz pulled away enough to look down into his visor. “That’s what I’m here for,” he announced sultrily, his own visor narrowing into a lustful band.

Before Prowl could ask, Jazz planted a kiss on the glass of his chassis and slid himself down Prowl’s slim frame, lying on his front where he had originally perched. Spark suddenly spinning a little faster, Prowl watched over the curve of his windshield with an expression of apprehensive curiosity lining his narrow features. Their relationship was relatively new, nearly a year in Earth time. They had barely explored each other, and Prowl had learned most of what he now knew from Jazz.

White servos lovingly cupped Prowl’s outstretched legs and, after placing a kiss on the left, pushed them up and opened them out. Jazz settled another kiss on the inside of a thigh.

Prowl’s helm fell back in excited trepidation, a little embarrassed at the exposing position. A different kind of warmth surged through his lines as he felt fingertips trail from his waist down to his crotch plating. 

“Been thinkin’ of doin’ this to ya for weeks,” Jazz rumbled ardently, massaging the base of Prowl’s thighs, running his thumbs along the seams of his groin. He nuzzled a leg and left a series of slow, meaningful kisses that gradually trailed lower and lower, until with a hitch of a vent from Prowl, the last was placed meaningfully on his valve cover.

Fans clicked on and Prowl’s fingers gripped at nothing on the berth. His spark was starting to pick up its pace as his engine perked from a purr to a smooth rumble.

A servo palmed at his panel before roaming higher to caress his flat waist, but as Prowl’s awareness followed the distraction at his hips, Jazz swiped his glossa firmly over his panel, startling a yelp from the younger ninjabot and an arch from his spinal struts. A kiss followed as his frame settled back onto the berth, but he was allowed only a second to relax before Jazz’s servos swooped down his thighs and his thumbs circled repeatedly across Prowl’s small aft.

“Aah,” Prowl uttered, pressing his helm harder into the slab as sensation wracked his neural net.

“You doin’ okay, there, Prowler? Hmm?” Jazz asked huskily against his panel, the vibrations of his voice sent bolts of pleasure scouring through the slim frame.

“Ye-aahh!” Prowl moaned, slapping a servo over his mouth, mortified by his over-sensitivity.

Jazz grinned, lifting himself away from his prize to hover back over his small partner. He pulled the servo from his face and kissed him silly. “You’re so beaut’fully responsive,” he praised in a low, adoring tenor, kissing him again and again. “Lemme hear it, lover. I wanna hear you.”

He dropped a last smooch on Prowl’s lips before sliding down his frame again, immediately stroking his glossa over the considerably warmer panel. A gasp fluttered down to him and he rewarded this with an even hotter lick. Then he nibbled.

Prowl shrieked – in only a way composure-clinging Prowl could. His panel snapped open as his fans hummed faster.

His prize now bared, Jazz took a second to admire the pretty valve with a flash of desire; small biolights pulsing excitedly around the mesh, slick with the first trickles are lubricant. He steadied Prowl’s thighs as he gave an experimental lick to the gold anterior node.

Prowl gasped and his small hips jolted almost right out of Jazz’s grip. The second lick followed shortly behind before Jazz drew it between his lip plates and sucked delicately.

“Ahh!”

Each sound and writhe fueled the Elite Guard’s fire more than any energon could, Prowl’s noises were music to his audials, and he wanted a score to accompany their activity. He flicked his glossa along the swelling mesh of the valve, circling the rim as he steadied Prowl’s twitching hips. Bitten back and subdued moans fled from above him, and Jazz glanced up to find that servo returned to his face.

“No muffling,” Jazz reminded him, reaching up to tug his wrist away, curling their fingers together. Prowl clung hard as another firm lick descended over his valve, and a whimper escaped his rapidly failing control.

With a thought, Jazz brought Prowl’s servo to his own helm, placing it on the top as he switched his grip and groped about for his partner’s other one. He linked their fingers yet again, feeling them tug in time with his own ministrations. Prowl’s helpless little struggles sent flame of pleasure through his own systems, keeping his own fan humming loudly and his own equipment pinging for release.

Having teased him for long enough, Jazz bestowed a nibble on the slick folds of the outer valve, toying with the supple mesh between his denta. He received a loud, sharp, “hagh!”, the decibels of which traversed his audial sensors and converted to pleasure, sprouting hot charge throughout his frame. To reward such good noises, he allowed a second for Prowl to recover before teasing the tip of his glossa around the very inside of the rim – and then plunged the whole length inside.

Prowl howled, frame snapping into a curve as the hot, firm push lit up an entire ring of nodes inside him, and Jazz’s nasal plating prodded incredible pleasure at his anterior nub. He nearly unseated that wicked glossa, but Jazz had braced his grip, expecting his little lover to squirm.

“ _Jazz_ ,” Prowl keened, his grip on his partner’s helm fluctuated as he tugged uselessly at Jazz’s servo with the other.

Jazz was relentless. Lubricant tasted sweetly on his taste receptors as it trickled copiously around his lips, coaxed from Prowl’s production channels with each wiggle and swirl of Jazz’s glossa. He pressed harder and then softer intermittently, rubbing at each little node he could trace until Prowl was a whimpering, gasping, moaning mess with absolutely no control of his volume and had Jazz’s interface equipment finally snapping open. He secured his lover’s shaking thighs, supported his arcing frame as he drove his smaller lover towards his finish.

“ _Ja-aah-aazz!_ ” Prowl choked, convulsing with pleasure so strong he could only register the bliss pouring through him.

Prowl was teetering on the edge, Jazz could taste it, feel it by the energy thrumming through his slim frame. With a deft unlinking on their fingers, Jazz brought his servo back and pressed his thumb upon the heated little nub of Prowl’s anterior node, sweeping across it ruthlessly. At the same time he modulated his vocalized and _hummed._

Prowl screamed. Pleasure so intense rampaged through his frame he snapped into an arch, thin frame bowing as he overloaded hard. Lubricant spilled from his valve as Jazz pressed into him all through his release, prolonging his overload with even louder vibrations, following his convulsing hips as they tried to jerk from his grasp, licking him thoroughly through his stretch of bliss.

When Prowl’s overload ceased and his charge swept away, his lithe frame hit the berth and he was offline, energy expelled. Now painfully pressurized and desperately trying to not hump his unconscious partner, Jazz gave the flickering biolights before him a tender kiss and wiped his face with a servo. He maneuvered them both onto their sides, settled between Prowl’s thighs and dug an arm under his limp form, watching the younger ninjabot’s slim face with the restraint of a Prime.

When Prowl booted back online with a small intake of air, Jazz greeted him with a smile and brushed a thumb across his jawline.

“Welcome back, beautiful.”

“Jazz,” Prowl breathed, satiated and glowing with the fresh rawness of recent overload. A tiny demure smile graced his face. Then it disappeared and a servo slapped over his face. “Oh Primus, I was loud - I hope no one heard.”

Jazz removed the servo and kissed him hot and charged, soothing away his fears with love. “You were amazin’” he said between gaps.

Prowl shifted into him and paused, stiffening. Jazz’s fans were still roaring, heat flew from his frame and something telling was hot and heavy against his abdominal plating. “You did not overload,” he realized.

Jazz nuzzled into him, his field buzzing with renewed excitement as he grinded slowly. “You up for round two?”

A fresh bolt of desire swept up Prowl’s recovered systems and his hips rocked into the motions, his own spike twitching in interest, responding to Jazz’s EMF. A hum of reciprocation sealed the deal and in the next second Jazz angled his hips and slid into Prowl’s ready valve. They both moaned in unison.

A couple hundred yards away, in the much used area of the warehouse designated the ‘rec room’, Bumblebee listened.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t go check?” He asked, hovering by the couch where he had leapt to his pedes not a minute ago, his oil shake gripped forgotten in one servo.

“One hundred percent certain you shouldn’t go check,” Ratchet told him again, seemingly unable to choose between his usual frown and a grin that knew things.

“But why was he yelling?” Bee just didn’t understand, his concern was quite touching. They had become a family in their years on Earth, they had all grown to know each other. “How do you know he’s okay?”

The other two, Optimus and Bulkhead, looked at Ratchet for answers, because they, too, were worried. No one had touched their energon or oil shakes since Ratchet had barked after a bolting Bee.

“I know because Jazz arrived this morning,” Ratchet told them. There was that grin again.

Optimus clicked first. His expression shifted so clearly Ratchet could have laughed.

“Oh,” Bulkhead twigged second, his features frozen around the syllable.

“What?” Bumblebee demanded. “What? Jazz is here? So Prowl’s safe?”

Ratchet couldn’t _stop_ grinning now. “Well… depends what from.”

Optimus snorted, Bulkhead covered his head and Bee… he finally got it.

“Oh.”


End file.
